An Afternoon with Sam

I dashed for the phone, hoping to answer it before the voicemail picked up.

"Hello," I said, breathing hard.

"Ken, it's Sam Clemens."

No, not that Sam Clemens. Sam is Samantha Clemens. She and her husband Dave live about two miles from me on Huckleberry Hill Road. We have the only houses for miles, so we've become pretty good neighbors. Dave is a realtor in town. He has done very well financially selling commercial real estate, and it shows. Their home is a 3500 square foot, two-story modern with a full-length pool and a separate guest house. It dwarfs my little two-bedroom bungalow, but since I'm alone, I don't need the space.

"Hi, Sam. Sorry I'm out of breath, but I was outside mowing the lawn."

"Oh, I'm sorry to catch you at a bad time. I was hoping you might be able to help me a little later on."

"Sure, what do you need?"

"Well, Dave's out of town for three days, and the new sliding patio door he ordered came in. I'm in town at the building supply now picking it up. The guys here will help me load it, but there's no way I can get it off the truck by myself without breaking it. I thought you might swing by a little later and help unload it. I'll buy you a beer by the pool for your trouble."

"Anything to get away from mowing the lawn. How soon do you want me there?"

"It'll take me about twenty minutes to get there from town, but you don't have to come right away if you're busy. I mean, I wouldn't want to deprive you of the joy of grass cutting," she said with a laugh.

"I'll be there."

I pulled up in the Clemens' driveway but didn't see Sam's pickup. No more than a minute later I saw her monster backing in beside me. She drives a Ford F-250 four wheel drive with dual rear tires. Sam is a small woman, maybe 5 foot 2 and 120 pounds soaking wet. Though she's fifty years old, she has kept herself very fit. She grew up on her family farm and could buck 95-pound hay bales better than any boy in town. She still does a lot of fairly heavy manual labor outdoors now, so she is well tanned. Her skin has begun to show a few of the effects of the combination of age and sun, but the hard work still keeps her muscles well toned. You wouldn't mistake her for a 30-year old woman, but there are several much younger women in town who envy her body.

I laughed when I saw her sitting behind the wheel of the F-250. Her head was just barely visible. But I'd seen her driving 40,000 pound GVW bulk trucks, and I knew the pickup was child's play for her.

She hopped down from the cab. She was wearing typical Sam attire: short sleeve gingham work shirt, denim skirt, and cowboy boots. If she hadn't been in town, she would have been in jeans rather than the skirt.

"Hey, Ken, thanks for coming. Dave'd kill me if I tried to unload this myself and broke it."

"No problem, Sam. Glad you called. What's this for? You guys going to be remodeling?"

"No, but we're replacing our old patio door with this new double-pane glass one. It'll be warmer in winter than the old one."

"Hmph. Makes sense. Is Dave going to install this himself or will he hire a contractor to do it?"

"Ken," she said in a tone mocking admonition, "You know as well as I do that if Dave tried to do this, it would end up in pieces and we'd have snow in the kitchen this coming winter."

She was right. Sam was definitely the carpenter in the Clemens house. Dave's idea of work was closing a deal on a shopping center.

"So, Sam, why don't you put it in. Goodness knows you can do anything a builder can do when it comes to using tools."

She smiled brightly at the compliment.

"I would, but I'd rather spend Dave's money and have someone else do it right. Besides, I couldn't do it alone anyway."

When we started to unload the package from the back of her pickup, I saw that she was right about that. We really needed three or four people to unload it. How we finally got that sucker off the truck and into their pole barn without breaking it is beyond me.

"Is that it?" I asked once we had it in the barn.

"No, there's a bag of hardware in the back. I can get it, though," she said.

We walked back out to the truck. Sam stepped up onto the open tailgate and grabbed the bag from the front of the bed. As she came to the edge of the tailgate to get out, though, the slick sole of her boot slid off the edge of the tailgate and she started to fall. The bag of hardware went flying.

Fortunately, I was there to make a perfect catch. Sam, not the hardware. Now, even though I'm 6 feet tall and 26 years old, my knees buckled just slightly as she hit me. My left arm cradled her back and my right arm swept underneath the backs of her legs. Like I said, a perfect catch, almost as if I had picked her up in my arms to carry her.

It took me a moment to notice that in catching her, my right arm had somehow gone under her skirt so my upper arm and forearm were against bare skin while cradling her thighs. I became aware of it when I closed the fingers on my right hand and felt the warmth and texture of her skin rather than her skirt. She had almost instinctively put her right arm around the back of my neck when I caught her, so our faces ended up quite close together.

I didn't put her down right away. Inexplicably, I stood there holding her for a moment, looking at her face and into her eyes. Her green eyes were so beautiful; they seemed to hold me entranced. And she didn't seem to be in any hurry for me to put her down, either. She had brought her left arm up and now had both arms around my neck. It was probably only a few seconds, but it seemed as if we held onto each other for minutes. Finally, I put her down. We found that we were still looking at each other, though.

She broke the reverie.

"How about that beer I promised you?" she asked with just a bit of shakiness in her voice.

"Sure. After all this work and heavy lifting, I think I've earned it."

"Hey!" she said in a mocking tone. "I'm not that heavy."

"No, I was talking about the door, not you."

"Yeah, sure you were," she laughed. "C'mon in. I'll get the beers."

We walked through the house and into the kitchen. She took two bottles of Budweiser from the refrigerator and popped the tops off.

"You want to sit out by the pool?" she asked.

"Sure, it'll be a lot nicer out there."

We sat and talked for a few minutes while we drank down the beers. She asked if I wanted another one. I accepted. Beats mowing the lawn.

"Do you want to go swimming?" she asked.

"Nah, I don't think so."

"Okay, suit yourself. I was hoping you'd want to so I could though."

"Well, hey, don't let me stop you."

She smiled impishly then went inside.

When Sam came back out, she walked up behind me and set the beer and a beach towel down on the cabana table. Then she walked around and stood in front of me.

"Wow!" I said. I would like to have said something more appropriate, but my mind went blank.

She was wearing a white one-piece suit. It wasn't particularly low-cut, but Sam's upper body is quite muscled and firm from all the lifting she does on the ranch. Her breasts aren't huge, but they aren't small, either. Just right, I'd say if anyone were to ask. Her legs are sturdy, too. Nice firm rounded thighs and well-tapered calves. As she turned around to model it for me, I could see it was cut low in back, and the leg holes came up fairly high on her hips. Most 50-year old women could not wear a suit like that, but Sam does not look like most women her age. Nor does she act like one.

"I have to apologize, Ken. See, with Dave gone, I haven't bothered to shave for a few days."

I hadn't noticed until she mentioned it. The slightly dark growth on her legs and under her arms was hardly noticeable with her dark tan. I glanced at her crotch and maybe did see a few dark hairs sticking out from beneath the suit. They contrasted with the white swim suit. The hair on her head is lighter, probably from exposure to the sun. When I looked back up, I was looking right into her beautiful green eyes again.

"Do you like it," she asked in a slightly deeper voice. Her voice is normally rather deep, but now she seemed almost hoarse.

"Like I said, Sam...Wow!" I was still at a loss for words. And there was a noticeable hardness beginning to appear in my jeans.

"There is one thing wrong with it though," she said.

"Not from where I'm sitting, there isn't. What's the matter with it?"

She quickly turned and executed a perfect headfirst dive into the pool. It seemed as if the water hardly rippled as her lithe body sliced into it. Clearly she does a great deal of swimming, too. She came up by the poolside ladder and climbed up, standing directly in front of me. She spread her legs slightly and put her hands on her hips.

"This," was all she said.

I may have said something, I don't know. But my eyes were locked on her body. Her suit that looked white when it was dry had become almost completely transparent and skintight when it got wet. As I looked at it, I became almost instantly hard. She noticed. And smiled. I was staring at her breasts. Their roundness and form even better defined now by the wet clingy material. Her nipples were taught and very erect and dark. Her areolas were not terribly visible, though, because she was tanned all over. There was no tan line showing anywhere under the suit. Even the dark triangle of hair around her pussy was difficult to distinguish. My mouth was dry, and I felt some involuntary shakes going through my abdomen and arms.

"I guess you don't think that the suit is defective, huh?" she asked. She was staring straight at the protrusion in my pants.

I just shook my head. I don't know. I really wasn't thinking too clearly.

"Too bad you don't have a suit so you could join me," she said somewhat seductively.

Now, I'm not an impulsive person. And I really am usually a gentleman. But Sam's standing there in front of me in a very wet, and now very revealing one-piece swimsuit turned me on more than if she had been there with nothing on. I felt the sexual side of my being taking over, and I was of no mind to resist it. Her body language guided me.

I stood up and slowly removed my shirt. I could tell from the way Sam watched me that she was getting aroused. Her eyes moved from my muscular chest to me eyes and then back to my chest. Then I kicked off my deck shoes, unfastened my jeans, and let them drop to the ground. I stepped out of them wearing only my briefs. Her eyes focused intently on my erection under my briefs. She licked her lips almost imperceptibly. I stopped, but her gaze remained on my cock beneath the material. When I didn't remove the briefs, she allowed her eyes to travel slowly up my body so that our eyes met once again.

Then she walked over to me. Slowly. Sensuously. Her eyes never leaving mine. When she stopped in front of me, she knelt in front and slowly, slowly pulled my briefs down to the ground.

My cock bounced free. Dark red, fully erect, bouncing in anticipation. Her face was only perhaps six inches from it.

"Oh my God," she said in a hoarse whisper. Then. "Please..."

I felt her hands moving up the outside of my legs. As they passed over my knees, she moved them to the front of my thighs, then to their inside. I felt a knot of tension just above my manhood. She ran her tanned fingers, slightly roughened from all her work, in my pubic hair and pulled it just slightly. The pulling was inflaming me more. She began to caress my cock with both hands, their roughness intensifying the mounting pleasure. I heard myself moan from the intensity of her touch, gentle yet so very, very arousing.

Sam gently kissed the tip of my cock and with just the tip of her tongue flipped away a drop of moisture that had surfaced there. It felt as if every muscle in my body had been hit by lightning. My head dropped back involuntarily, and my fists clenched with my arms extended at their sides. Sam circled my cock head with the very tip of her tongue, so lightly lubricating the head. Then she blew lightly across it. Rather than cooling it, her blowing stoked its fire further. Again I moaned, this time louder and longer. She knew well the exquisite torture she was inflicting on me. I wanted to seize her, but she had paralyzed my body with the intensity of its own lust. I could not move.

Again, she returned her tongue to my cock head. Circling it. Kissing it. Then I sensed a warm wetness surrounding me. She had carefully taken me into her mouth. She moved her head in and out, oh so slowly, moving her mouth over my cock gently yet with just the right amount of pressure. Again my muscles tensed and seized. I was powerless against her. As she drew her head back slowly, she allowed her teeth to lightly scrape across the length of my cock until she reached its head.

I heard myself make some unnatural sound. It didn't form on my lips, it escaped from deep inside. I felt as if I were about to flood her mouth with my liquid passion. She sensed that I was near the edge of orgasm and withdrew her mouth.

Then, she placed her hands on my ass, one on each cheek, and stood up, pressing herself against me as she stood. The wetness of the suit and the warmth and friction of her body made colors appear before my eyes. I felt as if I were about to pass out.

She stopped. Briefly. Allowing my mind to clear enough that I could comprehend the world again. I could hear her speak.

"Make love to me, Ken. Please. I need you to touch me. Please...please."

She was not begging. She was encouraging. And I was only too willing. Had this been a younger woman, a woman in her twenties, I would probably have taken control, tore the swimsuit from her body, and finished her right there. But this fifty-year-old woman was teaching me patience. She was expertly sending me messages that told me if I would trust her to guide, she would lead me to heights of sexual pleasure I could never achieve with a younger, less experienced woman.

Instinctively I put one arm around her back and swept her up into my arms, just as she first had been when she fell. I could tell by her smile, with her eyes closed, that she was pleased. As we passed the table, I bent my knees slightly to allow me to pick up the beach towel.

I carried her inside, kissing her gently while I held her. She responded warmly. Through the kitchen, through the living room, and into the guest bedroom. By the time we reached the guest bedroom, she was trembling. Her swimsuit and hair were still damp from her brief swim. I lowered her legs so she could again stand, and I tossed the towel on the bed.

"You're shivering. Let me dry you off and make you warm again."

She made some sound in assent.

As if unwrapping some precious gift, I placed my thumbs under the wide shoulder straps of her still-dripping swimsuit. Oh, how slowly I pulled the straps over her shoulders, then over her upper arms. I moved my hands to her waist, then leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. Her lips parted, and our tongues touched briefly. I allowed my lips to pull away from hers and slide warmly to her now-bare shoulders. I kissed one, then moved my mouth across her upper torso, stopping just at the base of her throat to permit my tongue to feel and taste her heat there. I felt rather than heard the low growl of appreciation. Her other shoulder beckoned me, and I continued my oral journey to it. One kiss, then another, then back to her lips.

Her kiss was more insistent this time.

I stepped back only slightly and moved my hands to the straps around her upper arms. Pulling them down slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, I moved further away to take in the beauty of her mature breasts emerging from above the whiteness being peeled away. The skin on her breasts was tanned dark brown, just like the rest of her body. It was not the taut, waxy skin of a younger woman, but rather skin textured deliciously by sun and age. Though slightly leathery in appearance, her skin was soft as chamois. I stopped pulling on the suit just as the dark brown of each areola was peeking above the white line. Sam's breathing was increasing now. I leaned forward and ran the my tongue over the exposed skin of each of her upper breasts, first with my tongue tip, then with the breadth of it. The increasing abrasion of my tongue's width clearly pleased her. I felt her fingertips grip me slightly tighter with each oral caress. I could feel her skin heating beneath my mouth, and her breath quickened more.

Another kiss on her lips. Again, more penetrating and longer.

Sam dropped her arms from around me and placed them at her side. Her signal for me to continue unwrapping my precious gift.

I placed my hands on her upper arms, above the straps, not gripping them. Slowly, slowly, my hands slid down her damp arms, taking the straps with them. Her nipples, dark, erect, rounded on the tips, taut, sprang free of the material. I stopped. The material was resting on the lower portion of each breast and pushing it up. Her nipples pointed straight out now.

Sam's hands moved behind my head and pulled me toward her. She guided my head so my mouth was very near her right nipple. She stopped. I extended my tongue to just barely touch the tip. At the moment my tongue touched her nipple, her arm muscles became momentarily tense as the energy jumped between our hypersensitive bodies. Then they relaxed when I swirled my tongue around her nipple, moistening it, caressing it, exciting it. Sam gasped audibly when I blew a breath across the wet nipple. I heard her say, "Again!" as she moved my head in slow motion to her left breast. Her excitement, and mine, were clearly growing as my tongue tasted her nipple, her areola, and the area beneath both breasts now.

I kept my mouth kissing the cleft between her breasts as I drew the swimsuit down further, all the way to her hips. Her mature breasts sagged slightly as the support by the material was withdrawn. I felt her breasts slump against my cheeks, and it aroused my passion even more.

My kisses followed the retreating material now, slowly down around her navel. Licking, kissing there for what seemed a slow motion ballet. I could feel the muscles in her lower abdomen twitch each time I hit a spot of excitement. Her tanned belly just below her navel had the roundness of a mature woman. I placed my cheek against it, not knowing why, but feeling safe and secure as well as sexually charged.

The damp fabric of the swimsuit was around Sam's hips, exposing just the very top of her black pubic hair. I kissed her belly down to her hairline, then traced the hairline back and forth with my tongue. Sam's fingers seized the hair on my head with each traverse of my tongue. There was urgency in her grasp. As I continued to kiss her roundness, I pulled the swimsuit down to her knees, then let it drop of its own accord to the floor.

I could smell the wetness of her pussy now, the scent a combination of her own juices and the water from the pool.

In a move that seemed to surprise Sam, I stood up, keeping my body touching hers as I stood. I kissed her fully on the lips, then picked up the towel and began to slowly and sensually dry first her hair, then her face and neck, then on down her body. Always kissing just behind where I had dried. With each kiss, with each movement of the terrycloth towel on sexually aroused nerve endings, Sam's body responded with involuntary tremors and sounds, murmurs of approval and encouragement. Whispers, words of sexual precision that inflamed me.

I cast the damp towel aside, put my arms around Sam as she did hers around me, and we kissed. Deeply, passionately, our tongues trying so hard to fulfill our deepest sexual desires. Standing at the foot of the bed.

Sam raised her right leg and placed it around me just below my ass. I felt the unshaven stubble on her leg as she massaged the back of my legs with hers. I groaned deeply, all my senses being controlled by this woman. She loved the effect the massage had on me. My cock was sandwiched between my belly and hers, and its heat and fullness was consuming. I began to involuntarily move up and down to increase the friction on it. I did not want to cum, yet my brain and Sam's body were driving me closer and closer. She sensed this, dropped her leg, and moved slightly away. Our kiss broke. We stood looking into the other's eyes. Her green eyes sent messages of readiness that words could never express better.